Staring at the beautiful young women gathered in the mansion's spacious den, recovering and filling up on party food as the latest round of action on the dance floor had ebbed away, Clara started to feel the hand of uncertainty clenching around her (still human, for the moment) stomach. As excited as she had been in the moment of seeing the carnal feast she'd planned start to happen, once she was away from the stimulating sight of those two sorority girls jostling in stuffed, furry stomachs, Clara didn't feel quite as good about this as she had up until now. Hearing Romy and Warren casually tossing off jokes and taunts at the expense of the two women fighting fruitlessly for survival had made her laugh... but in a sense, wasn't that a terrible thing?
 
Though it was often breached, the traditions of werewolves said that devouring humans who hadn't wronged the werewolf clan in question was strictly forbidden. Clara had talked every werewolf in the city into going all in on violating the letter and spirit of those traditions in the most flamboyant way possible. When most people violated inherited traditions of propriety from their communities by, say, having premarital sex, harms were merely a possibility, not a certainty, and to say those possible harms were of a lesser degree than being digested alive was a resounding understatement.
 
Whether for pleasure or for reproduction (the latter often being an unintended consequence of the former), werewolves copulated with humans exclusively rather than with one another. Part of their condition was a near-universal attractive appearance in their human form and a pheromonal allure that made it rather easy to find bed partners... particularly in the case of she-wolves like Clara. Indeed, it was a fortunate thing that, since the new forms of hormonal contraception worked for female humans but not their lycanthropic cousins, the majority of illegitimate pups these days came from female werewolves, considering how much more attentive law enforcement and media was in this modern age - a werewolf raised by a human mother with no idea of the potential danger once her bastard son or daughter reached puberty was a ticking time bomb... which is why Clara's brother and community had always helped care for someone like her who couldn't quite cut it in a white collar career.
 
In any case, even after she'd had a son from one of her frequent fuck-then-eat flings, which seldom lasted more than a week and on one occasion had been repeated multiple times in a single night, Clara had always found it easy to distance herself from any empathy with the men who'd provided her with the addictive pleasure of devouring live prey. They were disposable objects of pleasure, easily forgotten (Indeed, she regretted flushing all six-foot-two of Alain's father, Gary or whatever it was, less than most, for after all, Clara had warned that lummox he needed to be careful because it wasn't a safe day for her, and Alain's existence was a direct consequence of 'Gary' wilfully disregarding her words). Why should she categorize precious, adorable little Alain with the likes of them? It'd be said if HE got eaten, but who cared about all those others?
 
But, while watching these costume-bedecked beauties suffer the same treatment was even more thrilling for Clara's inchoate sadism, it also made her realize that, if not for the quirks of her birth, it could easily have been her in their position - sacrificial lambs just for the purpose of granting pleasure to a pack of well-connected predators and to give a bitter bitch the satisfaction of seeing her old sorority brought to ruin by scandal. And, after all, she had been breaking quite a few rules when she'd gotten herself kicked out of that university...
 
Briefly, as she downed her second drink of the evening, Clara thought about calling it all off. By now it was far too late for the sake of those first two college girls (and good riddance to that man who'd offered to host; Clara had never liked him) but perhaps the others should be spared. If she changed her mind, she could always have Marianne hunted down later.
 
Then again, Clara thought, talking herself back into it. Although she was a sort of unofficial alpha female among the fur-bearing denizens of the city, she wasn't really in command of them. She had suggested this wicked event and none of them had lodged a single word of protest. On account of there being no older werewolves in the city who hadn't yet retired to live out their final decades in the embrace of the deep wilderness, Clara would have to go to the next city over to find any older, wiser authority to report this to, and if she tried to convince the guys to call off their scandalous feast they'd probably refuse. If she tried to stop them who's to say they wouldn't add her to it?
 
A smile crept back onto Clara's face as she watched the sorority members on the couch and seats, giggling and gasping at the cheesy horror movie playing on Mr. Katz's preposterously oversized home theater television. It was a little sad, perhaps, but on the other hand werewolves went a bit mad in time if they never rode the wave of their savage lunatic hunger to its very apex. There, on the couch, between two sultry, scandily clad females, was a young werewolf by the name of Chase who, so far as Clara knew, had never submitted to the insane ecstasy of gorging his inner moon-kindled beast. Wouldn't it be hypocritical for Clara, a woman whose jaws had spread to admit well over a dozen on a one-way trip, to now turn around and say it was wrong for him to want to see what all the fuss was about and why werewolf-kind had such difficulty enforcing their 'dietary restrictions'?
 
Mind made up, Clara brought in a serving tray. "Oh - I don't mean to spoil things for anyone but this is a really scary part coming up next. All of the characters have been thinking everything's fine, but we in the audience can see the killer getting closer and closer. Good thing you girls have some nice, strong young... men... here to protect you, right?" She meaningfully winked at the two werewolves sitting and watching with all of those tempting feminine curves draping themselves over their furry shoulders and laps.
 
Chase was one of the two on the couch, and his eyes widened with her implication. The other one, Philippe, was an older werewolf who competed with Clara for unofficial leadership - if he hadn't already been in the form of a gray-furred wolf man when he arrived the humans would have noticed he was no college student. He let his long tongue slip forth from between his fangs, visibly salivating with the anticipation.
 
Sitting on the couch next to them were a trio of real beauties. On the left was Monica with the impossibly skimpy police officer's outfit, her panties quite visible under her dark blue nanoskirt and her top looking as close to bursting from the enormous breasts straining against it as ever.
In the middle, between the two wolves, was Jessica, a tall, stunning redhead dressed in a fetching 'Poison Ivy' costume - a low-cut, form-fitting green leotard that was so shiny and glossy it could practically be used as a mirror. Like Monica near her, her respectable d-cup bosom seemed poised to pop out of her top with any sudden movements, and her green platform boots were complimented with plastic vine creepers wrapped around her otherwise bare thighs.
 
On the right was Vivian, who'd really gone all-out to make a common costume choice (witch) memorable. A strawberry blonde with hair done up in elaborate braids bent into rings, Vivian's cute, almost cherubic face peeked out from beneath a huge pointed hat covered with plastic spiders, pumpkins, and a big pink bow. A purple cloak was draped over her shoulders. Her nubile body was enhanced by an orange dress that was held tight against her hourglass figure with a waistcoat. Her large, perky bosoms were considerably exposed by a cleavage-baring pumpkin-shaped cutout. Under the hem of her frilly skirt, her legs were daintily crossed, sporting striped black and orange stockings. Each of her black closed-toe high heels was made even more garish by a big red ribbon.
 
Sitting on a loveseat nearby, bouncing excitably at the next upcoming turn in the film, was a tan-skinned young woman named Lucy whose scanty angel costume would've been earning her a lot of predictable pick-up lines if she were in more mixed company. The gauzy white fabric of her minidress was so tight on her curvaceous figure, how she had gotten it on in the first place was a small mystery. The skirt portion didn't descend even halfway down her hips, showing off a lacy white thong, and her white platform high-heels (without which she'd have been the shortest girl present, even shorter than Danny) had helped send a stir of lust through anyone with a pulse when they watched her dance.
 
Standing off to the side of the couch, occasionally chatting to her friend Vivian, was Brooke, a wavy-haired brunette of Italian descent who more than a few would call a classical beauty. For a face as pretty as hers, the black-rimmed glasses she wore enhanced her natural allure rather than detracting from it. Not a lot of effort had gone into her 'Statue of Liberty' costume compared to some of the sorority sisters - it was mostly a very tight blue pull-over dress that stopped halfway down her long, luscious thighs, with a particularly low neckline, making her a notable competitor in the party's de-facto cleavage competition - though she was just a tad behind the likes of Monica and Polly, she would've had no trouble getting a few hundred dollar bills tucked snugly in that tempting crevice at the right venue. The spiky blue headpiece and a plastic light-up torch and tablet were almost afterthoughts - the two pieces that weren't on her head had been posed with for a few photos, then dropped on a coffee table and forgotten about.
 
"Ooooh, time for one of my favorite party games..." Clara said, returning from a brief excursion into the kitchen. As it turned out, the tense scene in the horror movie playing started to drag on a bit too long, and Clara saw that at least one of her fellow werewolves was getting impatient for 'the signal'.
 
Clara continued. "This is a good time to work up a little tension for the climax. I'm going to bring out a few, hmhm, horrifying little props. Bowls of 'brains', 'eyeballs' and-"
 
"U~~~~~~~h!" Jessica's entire body swayed with the force of her sassy head shake, with an exasperated feminine grunt of the sort that some stereotypical head cheerleader might have uttered in response to the head of the A/V club asking her out to prom. "Are you really going to make us sit through that fucking stupid haunted house trick for eight year olds? When I saw you going into the kitchen I thought you were actually going to get this party started with some 'Big C' or something. Seriously, what are you Mrs. Lyons, 70 years old or something?"
 
Vivian gasped and put her hands up to her cheeks. "Jeeeee-ssica! We talked about this! You said this wasn't going to be that kind of party!"
 
"Yeah," Jessia said with a roll of her eyes, "*I* didn't bring anything but c'mon, it's a party hosted by a political consultant, you had to figure there was going to be something. Like, Erina Folsom told me that Ms. Lyons used to be such a wild party girl that they're still talking about her, but I guess some people magically turn into boring stepford wives once they turn 30."
 
There was a twitch in Clara's eye, but that was all. With a sultry slide of her hand as if she were caressing a lover's chest, Clara flipped off the lights all at once just as the television transitioned to a screen so dark that the room was left in almost total blackness. Just before the lights went out she exchanged a meaningful look with Philippe, her 'alpha'. Jessica groaned in consternation, while Monica hushed her and told her she was being mean.
 
Clara advanced forward, carring a covered bowl in each hand, smiling wider and wider. It was hard for her to resist thanking Jessica for sweeping away her brief misgivings about arranging for a dozen people to be devoured as part and parcel of this little revenge scheme. "Alright, now when I say, you'll reach forward and get a good feel of some of these gruesome exhibitions and try to guess what they are."
 
She pulled Vivian's hand into a bowl of cold, wet noodles, and was predictably rewarded with a high-pitched squeal of excitement mingled with disgust. "Oh! That's... is that the... brains?" The young woman asked breathlessly, playing along to the hilt. "EWW!"
 
Jessica gave an annoyed sigh. "Yeah, I can feel something too, since you grabbed my hands and pressed them into it. Warm, wet... a little rough... I'm guessing it's an oversized taco with tongue meat inside it. Hey, what - enough with the joke already, let me go... ...the fuck? HEY! Stop, stop, AHH-" alarm gradually crept into Jessica's voice in the dark before suddenly being cut off. A series of loud, wet squishing noises filled the darkened room.
 
And then the lights were flicked back on. The girls started to comment on Clara's theatrical yet cliche little prank... and then they saw something that stopped their words cold.
 
The vibrant red hair and pretty features that had made Jessica the envy of so many lesser sororities were nowhere to be seen - but the foul-mouthed young party girl's exact location was no mystery. Philippe, the tall, broad-shouldered werewolf, had his massively stretched jaws just descending over Jessica's chest, her arms and face already down his throat. He had leaned over as if to kiss her, almost casually - but his maw had opened wide enough to admit her whole body, side-on, to the beginning of his hot, sticky throat. She was really starting to struggle now, and with a jiggle, the side of his lip was pulled down over her cleavage, leaving only a few feet of enticingly tight curves under a shiny green leotard and a pair of long, fit legs scrabbling and kicking against the floor.
 
So unexpected was this sight that Monica, Lucy and Brooke all stared, mouths agape and eyes blinking in a vain effort to dispel what was, surely, an optical illusion or an alcoholic buzz playing tricks on their minds. Vivian was still looking at Clara and didn't even notice the horrific sight a few feet to her side. "W-what? Come on guys, it's just some wet noodles, I was just playing along with the... uh... what's wrong? Jessica, are you-"
 
The cute witch slowly turned to the side just in time to see Philippe tossing his shaggy lupine head up in the air, throat bulging obscenely now with two large bumps where Jessica's breasts were. A grunt reverberated from deep within his chest as he hefted Jessica's desperately kicking legs covered in plastic creepers off of the couch and supported her waggling bottom in midair, holding her parallel to the couch and the floor. A couple of the girls couldn't help but think of the cartoons where a character opened his jaws wide and slid an enormous sub sandwich or similar foodstuff down into the gullet.
 
Her frenetic motions caused the glossy material of the green leotard to wedge deep into the cleft between Jessica's curvaceous ass-cheeks. Philippe held one of her thighs with one hand and used the other to give those marvelous buns a couple of ringing spanks with the palm of his hand, drawing a muffled cry in response from deep in his throat each time, before pushing firmly against those pale, lively cheeks and shoving the disagreeable co-ed into his throat. The leotard was so tight that in spite of her hips writhing and wiggling every which way as the terrified young woman instinctively tried to get free of her confinement, not a single pearly white tooth snagged on the smooth material.
 
The sound of the loud 'gulp' as Jessica's hips were shoved into the overstretched throat and swallowed, leaving only her thrashing legs, was like the starting gun in a race; all at once, most of the other sorority sisters registered that their peril was real, especially since Chase had been creeping his hand over the silky skin of Monica's thigh. The unreasonably busty blonde showed that her police outfit, overstretched though it was in the chest area, did nothing to impede her legs - she sprung up and out of Chase's grasp before he could tighten his grip and keep her in place.
 
Immediately, Monica dashed to the kitchen doorway, running with her hands held high and letting out a girlish shriek. Lucy was a bit slower, stumbling on her platform heels and almost toppling over, head swimming with shock, and turning around in a couple of full circles as she looked for the best place to flee, before settling on stumbling inelegantly towards the stairs leading to the second floor. Seeing the flash of yellow lupine eyes from the other side of the kitchen, Monica was forced to retreat back into the room... just in time to see Jessica being finished off. Feminine screams echoed through every hall.
 
A contemptuous sneer on her lips, Clara tossed the prop bowls aside and stepped forward to grab onto the clunky-yet-fashionable green boots lashing out helplessly against thin air as their owner slid deeper into Philippe's throat. With a cathartic grunt of effort, Clara forced those thighs into Philippe's throat with much the same impatient vehemence that she usually reserved for getting her carry-on bag into the overhead storage on an airliner.
 
Mind struggling to catch up with this impossible predicament, the feisty redhead sorority sister halfway inside the body of the "man" who she had been flirting with mere minutes ago shrugged her shoulders from side to side in a reflexive struggling effort to free herself - but there was nothing for her shoulders or elbows to push against, just hot, elastic, slimy barriers squeezing in against her nubile body from every direction. A muscular ring gripped her face and neck, squeezing so tightly that when she tried to scream, her open mouth was clearly visible to those watching... for just a moment before, with one last violent jiggle, her breasts were sucked in and suddenly squeezed powerfully by the contractions of Philippe's esophagus. Her trim, fit midsection squirmed, giving the other werewolves an enticing show of her working her beautiful ass before the last of the shiny green costume leotard vanished into the wolf's jaws, the two big lumps of Jessica's chest sliding down to the bottom of the throat and out of sight.
 
Much to Jessica's dismay, the space that opened to admit her was, though roomier, still tight enough that her face had barely a moment of reprieve, just enough time to sputter and smell the acrid stench of stomach acid, before being shoved into a surface even slimier than the throat. The new barrier stretched around her face like a mask once the rest of her body began to follow her down. When she felt the prickling sensation of fangs sliding past her exposed hips and rump, Jessica's legs began kicking hard up and down for a few seconds, muffled screams echoing from the feminine head and shoulders jutting against the front of his stomach, but she couldn't dislodge the furry hands squeezing her thighs.
 
In the blink of an eye, Philippe's thick tongue was washing over the last of Jessica's exposed bare skin below her knees, then gathering the kicking feet into his jaws. He tried to grip her by the ankles but Clara shoved with unrelenting force, and by reflex, Philippe swallowed heavily, letting all of Jessica's enviable figure finish slipping down the hot, wet tube she'd found herself in, at last swallowing her boots and all. Even for a broad-shouldered werewolf like him, a tall, curvaceous, model-like figure such as this naughty cosplaying villainess posessed made for quite an impressively sized bulge.
 
Jessica was forced to contort into an unnatural position with her legs bent behind her, laying on her side as the stretched stomach hung down over Philippe's hips. He casually stood up from the couch and stretched his arms languidly over his head even as Jessica got her bearings inside the horribly tight, slimy chamber she'd been so rudely shoved into and began sliding and thrashing around inside the taut, muscular chamber that squeezed her from all sides. "I was trying to get those damn boots off her, you know. Serves me right, trying to please you by putting her first in line for punishment."
 
Vivian, the elaborately attired witch, and Brooke, the statuesque statue of liberty, reacted more slowly than the others, moving with slow concern rather than the sharp pangs of alarm that sent the other girls into a cascade of hasty, uncoordinated motion. Neither paid much mind to the other two girls fleeing for the exits, but focused their attention on the stuffed werewolf standing casually in front of the couch.
 
Brooke looked to the empty space on the couch where Vivian had been, and then at the huge, indistinctly lumpy shape moving vigorously in Philippe's furry midsection. "Ahhhh. Yeah, I guess most of those other girls either didn't see or forgot about the basketball game a few months ago. I'm on the cheer squad, so of course I remember when the mascot in the big inflatable tiger costume pulled one of the cheer squad in through the 'mouth' as part of the show... You better have gotten Jessica's permission before you did that. She could still press charges if you didn't, and a 'joke' would be no excuse."
 
"Ohhh... Um... So, it's just a trick that the costume does, then." Vivian bit her lip. The redheaded woman who managed to put people in mind of the word 'waif' despite being curvy enough to have a career as an undewear model took a hesitant step closer to Philippe, eyes cringing with concern. "But it looked so real!"
 
Patting away both of Jessica's hands straining in terrified disbelief against te front surface of the stomach entrapping her, Philippe gave a lazy sigh of contentment and kicked Chase, who was sitting there staring. "Oh yes - come on, Chase. Why don't you have a word with that sexy brunette sorority sister with her long, toned legs, and explain the trick we used for our fun little trick?"
 
Chase stood up, tensely and slowly. "Okay. So, uh, Lady-Liberty-Lady... the way it works is..." he seemed to be teetering back and forth on the edge of making a decision... But before he could, a sound from the hallway caught their attention, followed by shrill protestations: "No, eeeee! Get your tongue away, don't lick me down there! I'm going to- ahhhh, p-put me down, put me dow-UHHHAAAAAAHHHH!" The piercing, shocked cry pulled everyone's attention to where the lovely tan-skinned woman in the angel costume re-emerged in the embrace of another of the male wolves... Warren.
 
A quick glance told Brooke, Vivian, and the other non-stomached observers that it was quite a bit more than just holding her. The powerful hands of the werewolf were holding her up by her butt and the small of her back, her legs forcibly wrapped around him. Using his lower hand, the smirking werewolf let loose with a lusty howl as he bounced her back and forth against his lap, and the wet 'schlicking' sounds produced made it abundantly clear just how intimately "close" he was holding her.
 
"Come on, just let me get a few minutes of fun and I'll let you go, no harm... har... HAACK!!." Warren spoke, not knowing or caring that he was in clear view of most of the people (and monsters) in the TV room, and as if his words weren't enough to tickle even the most obstinately rational young woman's suspicion as to his horrifying intentions, his chuckles brought forth evidence in response to one of a very displeased young woman's elbows striking him in the stomach as hard as she could manage. The werewolf shuddered as something closed off his breathing, and, not releasing Lucy from his grip for a moment, he leaned over and retched loudly.
 
Even though it was drenched in wolf saliva, it was quite clear from the way that it spread out on impact that was a black two-piece bikini. The latter was immediately recognizable from earlier in the evening. The white skull symbol printed thereupon had been thrust outward so forcefully by the abounding globes behind it, that if any had missed it at first glance, the sheer amount of jiggling and swaying the over-stuffed pirate-themed bikini top had been doing would have aggressively seized their gaze sooner or later. But now, the skull-print top was empty, laying pitifully flat on the floor with no sign of the fantastically curvaceous figure that had so memorably filled it out.
 
Shaking his head and shuddering, Warren began to straighten up before suddenly heaving up a larger ball that stayed tightly wound as it landed with a splat. Though mashed into a tiny ball, the soaked gold-brocade epaulet showing on one side made clear that the ball of wet fabric was the perpetually-open jacket Polly had worn to frame her lush chest. Of her high-riding boots, all that remained were two disconnected rubber heels, one protruding from the bolus... there was no more trace remaining of the black leather than there was of Polly's bounteous curves.
 
Warren furrowed his brow and swished his tongue around in his closed jaws as Lucy stared in mute, tense horror. "Hey!" the werewolf said with an excited wag of his tail. "I think that's all of it. No silicone! Looks like that first one was a luckier catch than I thought!"
 
That made Brooke take a broad step back away from Chase, and when her eyes flicked over to Philippe's engorged midsection her eyes likewise bulged with a sudden horrified realization as she came to understand that Jessica was fighting against her confinement so energetically because she could feel that Philippe fully intended to allow his furry pelt to be the last costume the spoiled redhead ever wore. "Oh my... Vivian! Run!"
 
"Wheeeeeere?" The witch-costumed redhead drew out the question into a long, overwhelmed whine.
 
As if the space wasn't chaotic enough two more young women stormed in at just that moment, from opposite directions. One was Marianne - this time brandishing a shining handgun in her fist that made everyone look. The other was the vampire-styled co-ed, Nancy, who was pale with fear and leaning around the corner from a stairwell leading down to somewhere no-one had yet approached.
 
"Clara!" Marianne pointed the weapon right at the nonplussed female jester in green. For her part, Clara looked more intrigued than worried. "Tell that freak to let her go! Or else you're first! Everyone who ISN'T a fucking werewolf, come slowly towards me, and get ready to make a break for the front door! You monsters, stay where you are!" Her hand trembled but only faintly - her aim at Clara was impressively steady. "I know you have the key to the front door, bitch! Throw it over here, I'm not going to ask twice!"
 
Brooke and Vivian responded quickly, and Monica, the overly-endowed wearer of an overly-revealing police costume, was just a step behind them. Warren, not very concerned, let out a lough laugh and pushed Lucy - who was too overwhelmed to even resist - against the wall so he could drive his length into her more forcefully. "Hahah! I guess that means the rest can go ahead and join the girls at the front door since I'm the only 'fucking werew-'"
 
Displaying a skill and resolve she'd scarcely knew she had, Marianne swung her hand in Warren's direction. Through blind luck, she happened to squeeze the trigger at the perfect moment and the wolf's head jerked to the side as he toppled over, landing limply in a tangle of furry limbs on top of the screaming, flailing Lucy. Though neither Philippe nor Clara moved from their places, Chase let out a startled yelp and dove for cover behind the couch, ears pinned against his skull.
 
"Good thing the neighbors are out of town. Good for them, that is." Clara said laconically with a sniff. "Robert, is that you back there? I know there's only one gun but, fuck, are you literally hiding behind your girlfriend? What kind of a man are you supposed to be?"
 
"The key, the KEY!" Marianne shouted at Clara, her face going red as she shoot the smoking gun, now quite thoroughly proven to be loaded and ready, at her nemesis. But before she could manage to follow through on her threat, several of the panicked girls who'd rushed towards the front door came back screaming and bumped into Marianne from behind, forcing her out of their way.
 
"M-Mari!" Bobby said, his voice cracking dryly. "The front door... is no good! There's another of them there!"
 
As Marianne and Clara looked down that hallway - the former with horror and disgust and the latter with delight - another grey, furry form was casually strolling down the hallway towards them... this time with a pale, bubbly female rump half-covered by the fringe of a familiar green skirt and two flailing legs in striped stockings sticking out of his jaws. One of the new wolf's hands was resting posessively on the surface of the woman's wriggling ass, but he held off on swallowing her completely as he walked towards the rest of the group.
 
Laughing like a hyena again, Clara cracked her knuckled. "There you are, brother of mine! I guess that settles whether you were going to join in the festivities or not! I knew that your guilty conscience wouldn't hold you back forever."
 
Marianne and the horrified young women paid Clara's words little mind, though. Instead, their attention was grabbed by Nancy whistling and energetically waving them closer around the corner from the opposite end of the room. "Hey! This way, this way! There's a safe route route over here, I already checked! Hurry!"
 
High heels clattered against the floor as the partygoers - Marianne and Bobby included - rushed towards the promise of safety. Vivian was running with her arms held high near her neck as if she'd seen a rat - one got the feeling she had never been in a position of needing to run for her life before and didn't at all know how to do so. It was a short-lived effort as the cute witch gave a yelp of surprise when she passed by one of the couches and 'tripped' on something behind it. Marianne looked back as she tried to cover everyone's retreat with her gun and saw Vivian wasn't rising from behind that couch... on the contrary, even as the new werewolf approached with the young woman Mari had dispatched to secure a getaway vehicle teetering on the edge of being completely swallowed, Marianne could hear a series of loud slurps and gulps from behind the couch where Vivian had fallen.
 
It seemed it was too late for her, as well as for the cute blonde in the fairy costume. Marianne knew she had to conserve her bullets - she wasn't even sure how many she had - and had to focus on getting to safety and contacting rescue, first. She kept backing up. In the tense moments where she looked ahead to see Nancy waving them forward towards an open door in a sublevel of the mansion, she heard another piercing shriek, and when she looked back she saw that Brooke had been snagged by one arm by the already-bloated male werewolf who'd been on the couch. Jessica's still lively struggles did nothing at all to slow him down.
 
Marianne was almost the last one through the door... not that many had made it. She saw Monica and Nancy in there, and heard another female voice... so hopefully Lucy had made it. Clara was already approaching, and Marianne brandished the gun again to ward her off... but then, Bobby stepped in front of her, his back to her and arms held wide as if to shield her.
 
"Shooting isn't going to work, Mari." Bobby said tensely. "I think it only stuns them. That one in the hall was getting up and... I don't think the girl he had his hands on is going to make it. Get in there, I'll buy you as much time as possible." He clasped his hand firmly around the barrel of the handgun in Marianne's hand, pulling it halfway from her grasp.
 
"Don't be stupid, there's plenty of room, and... I need you with me!" Marianne hissed, tears filling the edges of her eyes. "Don't-"
 
"I love you." Bobby said simply before throwing a hard shoulder into his girlfriend, knocking the beautiful red-riding hood on her back, cape sprawling out around her. The gun was still in his hand, and he quickly got a grip on the handle. As he slammed the door shut, standing in front of it. While Marianne was still struggling to stand, Nancy stepped up and turned the bolt to lock the heavy, metal-reinforced door with a click. The ensuing wordless struggle between Nancy and Marianne for control of the door bolt was short lived as Marianne realized the futility of trying to let him back in.
 
Clara was smirking with amusement in her eyes. Rather than approach Bobby yet, she turned back to observe how things were proceeding in the room behind her. Brooke, spitting defiant protests and lashing out with kicks to little effect, was pinned underneath a single clawed foot by Philippe, giving her an excellent view of the contours of Jessica's writhing body. Judging by the shocked, terrified cries coming from his bloated stomach, the digestive system was already getting to work on the redhead cosplaying as a supervillainess.
 
Lazily, Martin - his morbidly appropriate 'grim reaper' costume now shredded to pieces and shed - tipped his head back in spite of the muffled pleas emanating fron his throat. The pair of breasts bulging in his gullet slid down and away, followed by the quivering hips and stockinged feet in a single smooth, practiced gulp, tossing Tara down to her final destination so forcefully that his stomach bounced with her momentum as she landed.
 
"Taking a trip outside, was she?" Clara chuckled. "Well, that's that one accounted for. Good thing I decided to let you hold onto the key to prevent any sharp protrusions detracting from the curves of my costume, here." She glanced over her shoulder with a shake of her pigtails. "I see Warren got his bell rung - serves him right, careless fool... we could've kept the game going a bit more if he hadn't blundered in. My back was turned... what happened to that foolish girl with the overdesigned witch outfit?"
 
A wet gulp echoed from behind the couch, followed by a very pleased looking werewolf - Romy - rearing his head as he stood up with a grunt of effort. Using his hands he hefted his huge, writhing stomach up onto the back of the couch to show everyone, giving them a good view of Vivian's terrified features making a prominent imprint in the surface of his furry belly.
 
"Well, you know," Romy said casually, resting a clawed hand on the side of the belly and working it over to give one of Vivian's perky breasts a squeeze, drawing a wail of dismay, "traditionally the punishment for convicted witches was..." he was interrupted by a burp coming up between his jaws, followed by a deep gurgle. It seemed that the liquid cause of that gurgle was very much unwelcome for Vivian inside his stomach, as her bulge suddenly began writhing a lot more energetically. "...urp. Ah. Well, you know. This counts as dunking the witch and burning her at the same time, right?"
 
Vivan herself was all too capable of hearing what Romy had to say and responded with a wordless high-pitched squeal that reverberated in the tight confines so loudly that it made her ears hurt. Of course, the hot tingling sensation spreading across her bottom where the short skirt of her fancy costume left her butt exposed let her know that was the least of what she was going to experience. Panic and an instinctual urge to survive flooded her pampered young body with adrenaline, but each kick of her legs seemed to excite the hot, dripping wet walls of squishy flesh holding her further. A loud gurgle roared from all around her and she squeaked sharply as she felt a hand giving her thigh a couple of appreciative smacks from outside.
 
Just as the adorable redhead was starting to think things couldn't get any worse, a rude belch echoed from among her and the tight fleshy sack constricted suddenly, stretching tightly around her curvy figure. In struggling to get away from it she folded up awkwardly under the ever-increasing pressure, legs bent backwards behind her so sharply that her knees ached. From outside, the spectators were treated to the sight of two generously curvy spheres and her not-quite-silently screaming face pressed up against the surface of Romy's engorged belly. "Mffff, mffff-uhhh?" Vivian's panicked shrieks gave way to a confused gasp of relief as more air flooded the humid prison, allowing her a much-needed fresh breath.
 
Although Romy had incidentally knocked off the cute witch's elaborate hat in the process of hastily bolting her down, most of her costume was still in place. By sheer accident Vivian's shifting elbows knocked against one of the little plastic pumpkin decorations hanging from it, designed to light up when it was squeezed. That gave her just enough light to dimly see as she curled her face down, sputtering to clear the layer of stinging mucus from her nose and mouth. But that feeble luminescent glow, though sparing her from the fear of the darkness compounding her claustrophobic experience, revealed something far worse: a wrinkled, utterly soaked dress with a chainmaile pattern on it... quite recognizable as having been worn by her friend Sandra, and quite empty of any trace of the hard-partying, amorous young woman.
 
"NMFFFFFFFHHHHHH!" Even as Vivian's muffled shriek of horror emanated from Romy's bloated midsection and her struggles became more desperately energetic - which the werewolf found amusing and deeply satisfying - a third set of feminine cries began resounding throughout the room from behind a tightly stretched layer of muscle, fur and slimy stomach tissue. Clara and Philippe glanced over to see Warren emerging from the hallway, head leaned back and leading with his bloated gut as he walked. The big, round, wriggling ass to which his belly clung tightly bounced up and down with each heavy step of his digitigrade paws. There was a faint bloody spot on the side of his head, but he didn't seem to be impaired in the slightest.
 
"Ah, good," Clara said, ignoring Bobby's display disdainfully for the moment. "Glad you finished your little nap. We can't have any of these bratty sorority sisters scurrying around the place unsupervised now that the game is revealed. I noticed that blonde in the too-tight police outfit was going down a blind corner and that one you'd been screwing took off in the other direction... who have you got packed away, there?"
 
Warren sighed with sublime pleasure, tongue hanging past his jaws as he rested both hands on the feminine curves struggling forcefully against a horrific fate. "I was so hot to trot that I didn't manage to catch her name before giving her a quick fuck. But whatever her name is, she's going to be a real angel soon."
 
"AHHHPPPPHHHHH!NHHHHHHHH!!" In response to that, Lucy lent her powerful lungs to the heaven-bound choir delighting the ears of the sated predators, and the bulge she had bequeathed upon the gluttonous wolf shook and swayed from side to side with the force of her desperate movements. Warren paid the screams emanating from his stuffed midsection little regard, wrapping both arms around her so that he could embrace her tightly.
 
His next words only confirmed Lucy's worst fears and heightened her panic: "Of course, before she gets to playing a harp, during her remaining time here on earth she's going to be singing quite passionately while my stomach provides her a beat..."
 
"You just be a good boy and stay right there by the door, alright?" Clara said to Bobby, who was starting to sweat and shake as he stood dramatically blocking the basement door. "Let me make sure everything here is taken care of, and confirm something." She walked over to where a fourth furry belly was writhing and convulsing with the desperate struggles of the enticing, curvaceous feminine form inside as her brother stood there, arms hanging casually by his sides and watching his midsection moving and shifting fitfully.
 
"Well?" Clara asked, looking up at Martin's yellow, lupine eyes. The werewolf gulped down some air and ran his tongue over his jaws. "Well, what? For the record, Clara, I still don't think this is a good idea, but, after all, I couldn't just stand by while one of these girls went off to get help..."
 
"Aren't you going to say anything? For the contest?" Clara said, flicking her jangling jester cap with a finger before laying a hand on Martin's shifting stomach, which provoked a gurgle mingled with a cry of panic from the hapless, ditzy young woman inside. "Perhaps we should... clap to save Tinkerbelle?"
 
"I'm sorry, Clar, and no offense to the rest of you, but I don't think it's right to make jokes at the expense of these poor girls while they're bouncing around in stomachs being digested alive. This is a bad enough night for whatshername here without needing to rub it in. Really," he leaned down and looked almost remorseful, "she was so damn cute... I wanted to convince her to come home with me so that we could have a night of fun... I'd avoid looking at the moon, and let her go her merry way. If only that nosy girl in the vampire outfit hadn't interrupted me when I was trying to get her into my 'blindfold me and drive me to a hotel' gimmick..."
 
"Well, maybe you still can." Clara looked up at Martin and winked with an evil grin, before bending over and giving his full belly a couple of slaps. "Hey! Shut up and listen, Miss Fairy. I have a grudge against these other girls but not you - "
 
"I never did anything to you! I've never even MET you! Make him let me go!" Brooke pleaded desperately, but Philippe just chuckled. Clara ignored her.
 
"...so, if you tell me what happened, I'll make him let you go." Clara spoke very loudly, almost shouting to be sure Tara could hear her over the groaning liquid noises that heralded her impending digestion.
 
Tara just screamed, at first, but when Clara repeated her missive more loudly, the bubbly blonde being confronted with a rising, equally 'bubbly' pool of digestive juices managed to choke back the terror and discomfort of her confinement long enough to sputter an answer. "T-the... blonde girl... in the red... Red riding hood cloak! She told me to! Said to- AHHHH! NNNhh, it burns...! - to get the car ready and we were going to escape! She has a gun, she made me! Please, oh God, please let me go!"
 
"Mmmm..." Clara turned around and smiled. "What do you say, gang? Should Martin give her the 'treat' of surviving the night, or the 'trick'?"
 
"Trick! Trick!" The other werewolves laughed and chuckled piteously. Warren's voice was unanimous in consent too, though interrupted by a loud burp. "Tr*URRRRP*ick!"
 
"Well, sorry, my fair fairy, but it seems like you're outvoted." Clara said with airy disdain, giving the girl-shaped bulge one more push with her palm before turning around. "I said that I'd have Martin let you go, but I didn't say you'd be coming out the same way you went in."
 
"NO! NOOO, N-" Tara was cut off by Martin letting out a deep belch, causing the fleshy prison to constrict around her.
 
Philippe spoke up now, resting a hand on Jessica's panicked, writhing form in his gut. "So, Warren, Romy... I see that we've got 4 of these bimbos tightly packed into stomachs here. I'm guessing that the racket upstairs was that pair of girls who dropped off the radar earlier stressing the plumbing after encountering you two?"
 
"Ahhh...." Romy said, leaning forward onto the bulge in front of him, drawing a fresh round of mewls and desperate pleas from Vivian. "Yeah, don't worry about it, Phil. No clogs yet, although with four humans getting acquainted with werewolf stomachs at once, I'd bet the toilets aren't going to be enough and some of these lovely ladies are going to have to depart 'au naturele' in the garden out back. I think my little sister already stepped out there to give Clara's old boss his final sendoff, since she didn't want to wait for me to finish flushing down all of that sporty co-ed who went for a ride on my lap..."
 
All of that loud, enthusiastic language about 'plumbing' and 'flushing' was all too audible to the hapless young women languishing in four tight, mercilessly squeezing stomachs as acids pooled around them and began to eat into their pert, healthy young bodies and enticing curves. Seeing a sudden intensification of their feisty struggles and wriggling made the predatory werewolves chuckle and give their lively bellies a pat.
 
"Well... do you want me to... go ahead and make that five?" Several pairs of eyes flicked over to Chase, the only fully-transformed werewolf in the room without a midsection being bloated out by a writhing sorority girl. He was staring down at Brooke, who began squeezing and kicking more forcefully when she saw the hungry light in his eyes.
 
"Sorry, nope." Philippe said, popping his knuckles casually. "You dropped the ball, pup - this sexy four-eyed cheerleader here almost escaped on account of you dawdling instead of pouncing on her like you should've. The young have got to learn to hunt on their own or they'll never manage it, you know? You're not getting this one. Clara set all this up so she should really have something..."
 
Clara giggled. "Oh, that's sweet of you, but I don't really have a taste for girls, generally speaking. And I have... something else in mind, right now. Someone else." she cast a vicious, sultry smirk over her shoulder back at Bobby and the basement hallway, shaking her bottom enticingly as she did.
 
"So does that mean I can..." Chase's tail began wagging in spite of him and a glance showed he was starting to salivate, making Brooke cringe and wail in dismay, calling out for help - though of course no-one in earshot was in a position to do so.
 
"Still no. Those girls in the basement still might get up to some mischief and try a trick to escape, and you need to watch that door so the rest of us can relax and enjoy our lovely prey squirming around while we digest them. This is a rare pleasure and having to stay on your guard while it happens detracts from that, y'know? Mrrr... Clara, should I give some 'sweet liberty' to Romy's little sister? I figure she has a good appetite."
 
"No," Clara said, "she's still in trouble for jumping the gun earlier, and besides, there's still at least two young men to take care of at this party, and I don't want her getting fat on my account. Us 'bitches' can't afford to eat quite as recklessly as you guys, you know. There's no way her metabolism could handle more than two."
 
"Well, nothing for it then." Philippe stepped up off of Brooke. The statuesque bespectacled brunette was startled, and backed away from him along the floor, panting heavily but saying nothing. Watching him stand there squeezing Jessica's writhing form a few moments, Brooke stumbled to her feet, hurriedly kicking off her high heels in the process, and turned to the hall leading upstairs, her fit, athletic body coiling like a spring as she prepared to take off...
 
...but then Philippe was on her, pressing the stomach up against Brooke's back as he grabbed her by her shoulders from behind and ran his tongue over her exposed neck, causing Brooke to let out a bloodcurdling scream - she'd seemed so close to fortunate escape. The long tongue curled all the way over her neck and past her cheek, sliding over and leaving a trail of clinging saliva on her thick-rimmed black glasses.
 
"Give me your poor, huddled masses, yearning to breathe free..." Philippe breathed before unhinging his jaw and thrusting his mouth down over her head. The tight blue minidress didn't impede Brooke's movements at all, and the athletic cheerleader threw both her legs up and kicked wildly, trying to throw her assailant off his balance. Instead he took advantage of her sudden change in momentum, hooking his arms under her shoulders and swinging her up. Her head was forced right into the back of Philippe's throat, and he swallowed greedily.
 
"Ha! She was just talking about cheerleading shows earlier, and she just did a very advanced move!" Clara said with a cruel smile. "What a talented young woman. But then again, there is always a fresh crowd of nubile, curvy girls every year to fill out the cheer squad. So don't show her any mercy."
 
Philippe sensually slid his hands down Brooke's back and cupped her flexing ass-cheeks under the hem of her Lady Liberty costume, hefting her up and tilting his head back. With a lunge, he managed to snap his jaws closed over her impressive bustline in a single movement, allowind his throat to get a firm grip on her chest and begin pulling her down one big gulp at a time.
 
Brooke was in far from an ideal position. Screaming in breathless terror, she was experiencing the same slippery, frictionless muscular tube gripping her face and upper body, smothering her with its heat as she was dragged down, as all the other sorority girls had... but on top of that, she was perfectly able to hear the gurgling and frantic, wordless pleading for rescue coming from the pit at the bottom of that waterslide... A pit she was rapidly approaching. It seemed like the swallowing process went on forever, but when she felt the points of werewolf fangs scraping over her athletic buttocks and his tongue curling up around her kicking legs and thighs, she reflected that it seemed all too short. Her head ran up against a tight pucker of flesh that soom spead to let her past...
 
Philippe outside grunted with effort, finally meeting real resistance as the shapely pair of kicking female legs entered his jaws. Whereas Romy and Warren had polished off that final stretch of their own latest meals with a single satisfying slurp, Philippe had to grab hold of Brooke's sexy thighs and forcefully stuff her down his throat as she ran into the nubile young woman already folded up in his churning belly. Werewolves hadn't been made to swallow two prey whole at once like this, but knowing he might never get another chance for such a legendary meal drove Philippe into a feeding frenzy, and he pushed past the feeling of strain and nausea to shove Brooke down right on top of Jessica. Soon there were just a couple of feet - panicked twisting from side to side and curling of the toes the only gesture of resistance they could manage - protruding from Philippe's mouth.
 
Brooke had been forced right down amid the curled up tangle of shapely limbs and enticing curves that Jessica made. She barely managed a proper scream before her face was muffled not by the wall of a stomach but by Jessica's large breasts covered in a layer of shiny tissue-thin spandex, unable to avoid burying her face between them. Throughout all of this her glasses had remained in place, making a hard uncomfortable ridge to poke Jessica's boobs - although the acid pool which she was being forced deeper into was a far greater concern for Jessica, who made her displeasure known with a ragged moan and warbling cry. As she felt herself come to a stop, Brooke felt a momentary hope that the wolf was simply too full to get the rest of her down - she actually pulled her own arms down past the tightness of the spincter to join her in the stomach just so she could try to push herself back up and out. The only thing she could push against was Jessica's luscious thighs, shoving the other sorority girl deeper against the rubbery flesh sac holding them in. When her elbows poked against that tight membrane Brooke could tell it was stretched about as far as it could go.
 
But, alas, there was no end to the terrifying wonders werewolf anatomy was capable of. Clara walked over and repeated her earlier trick, standing on her tiptoes and allowing Philippe to use his arms to squeeze Brooke and Jessica in the stomach, forcing the tighter, so that Clara could give the dainty bare feet a push with her fingers. At last Philippe snapped his jaws closed, and after a series of exhausting, noisy gulps, he lurched forward with a loud *GLKT*. The last of Brooke slid down at last to join Jessica in the stomach. Both women had no space to struggle or even breathe, only to slip and aimlessly grind against one another. When Philippe let out a tiny, almost dainty belch, they were forced to embrace tighter than lovers as they wordlessly babbled and pleaded to one another in terror.
 
From the outside, Philippe was looking so bloated that he was obviously having to strain his muscles just to keep standing upright. Soon he decided that wasn't worth the trouble and flopped down onto the couch. The new pressure, combined with the heat, omnipresent slime and terrible gurgles, made Jessica and Brooke (especially the latter, who was coming in fresh) start writhing with newfound energy. "Whew..." Philippe managed to swallow a few tiny mouthfuls of air to keep that amusing struggle going. "I can scarcely believe I did it. What a troublesome pair. I'm sure these naughty hotties would clog the toilet beyond all repair if I gave them the chance. So instead I'll let them do some teamwork on helping fertilize the garden. Heeheee... sounds like a perfect job for Poison Ivy, doesn't it? I'm sure you girls will make some beautiful flowers, even if you aren't so beautiful yourselves after my stomach has its way with you."
 
Clara giggled again as the expected round of muffled, horrified screaming emanated from Philippe's overstretched belly. He was given the rare privilege of getting to caress two gorgeous 19 year old female backsides at once as they wriggled with more energy than the most enthusiastic pole dancer.
 
------------------------
 
Outside, Danny had forgiven Mr. Katz in her heart for selfishly refusing to wear a condom and consigning the young woman to a tense few upcoming weeks as she wondered if her period was going to come on time. After all, how could she not forgive him in her heart after she forgave him in her 'fart'? Half bent over, a long series of noisy expulsions of gas cut through the quiet nighttime air as Danny spread her legs wide. A big, studly man, much more substantial than the shy, nervous nerdy boy who she'd seduced and made her first meal a few months ago. Since it was his beautiful expensive house, Danny saw fit to dig a little hole right beneath the central tree to serve as Mr. Katz's grave.
 
She couldn't help but let out a howl of pleasure as the first length of digested human passed out her ass beneath her hiked up tail. Even though she knew there'd be more Danny hadn't quite guessed just how MUCH more shit a tall, fit man like her host had made. "Oooh, Mister... I never knew your first name, and you never knew my last name, even though we might be parents after your little 'accident'. But I do know that you were the biggest, most filling meal I've ever had. Mmmmff! Oh my goodness, there's just sooooo much of you to shit out, I'm going to be here for a while..."
 
The wet sounds of Mr. Katz being dumped by his latest conquest, and Danny's yips and growls of pleasure, went on for a very long time... no matter how super-fast a werewolf's stomach could churn up and process a meal once it got going, there was no avoiding the fact that it took a fair bit of time for such a large quantity of clumped brown matter to pass through a narrow space like Danny's dainty little tailhole. She'd greatly underestimated how deep she needed to make the hole, and at the end she was left with a pile of smelly brown logs rising a good several feet above the surface of the ground.
 
"Ohhh noooo~" Danny whined in her voice, still feminine and nasal even in wolf form. "I forgot to bring any toilet paper. Darn my selfish, thoughless big bro for hogging it all. Oh well... nobody out here to watch me..." Instead of doing the dignified thing Danny sat down on the grass and dragged herself along to wipe herself clean, giggling at the rough feeling of the turf tickling her nethers and anus. "Ahh~ I should get back inside before anyone sees..."
 
--------------------------
 
Clara turned her back on the murderous orgy of gluttony the stylish TV room had just witnessed. Five nubile, curvaceous young women were frantically struggling and desperately pleading against the inevitable as the wolf-men who'd gulped them down sighed in satisfaction and rubbed their distended bellies. The furry guts distended around feminine bulges showed no empathy for the sorority girls' plight, responding to their pleas for release or rescue with thunderous gurgles. After listening to Clara, one after another, the stuffed werewolves got to their feet and carried their bloated tummies up the stairs to the second floor.
 
 Still exultant over his luck, Warren dashed up the stairs first, making the angelic beauty sitting in his gut bounce wildly up and down, which had the cruel side effect of thoroughly coating her with acid... and the pleasant (to Warren) side effect of making her music-video-worthy ass slam repeatedly against his hips. Second was Romy, feeling far more casual and making sure to savor his second meal as long as possible by gulping down lots of air and belching frequently, using a clawed hand to teasingly explore the spots where Vivian's desperate handprints were appearing on the surface of his furry midsection.... he used the momentum of climbing the stairs to roll Vivian around inside of him, forcing her D-cup breasts up against the tight slippery walls closing in on the poor co-ed so he could get another good grope of them.
 
After all, Sandra - almost forgotten already and barely spared a second thought as he focused on his latest stomach-filler - had been very modest in the breast department, and he greatly enjoyed getting to fondle and squeeze the soft, springy mounds even as Vivian was promising him all kinds of things. If he'd only spit her out and save her from the gurgling pool of acid filling the chamber and bathing her from head to toe, she'd give him anything he wanted... money, sexual favors, and on and on. Warren simply bent down and growled teasingly at her: "It'll be hard to make good on many of those promises from inside a sewage pipe, don't you think?" he said, chuckling again at the exaggerated wails of dismay and feisty kicks that followed his words.
 
At last, Philippe, balancing himself with his hands and grabbing the bannister the whole way, managed to stagger up the stairs, his huge belly bouncing almost down to his feet with each step he took. By the time he reached a bedroom he was exhausted and simply toppled over into the bed with a resounding crash, pulling the blanket over him. Even underneath that, he was so stuffed that when Brooke managed to roll away from Jessica, her folded-up thighs, ample cleavage and horrified open-mouthed face were pressed so tightly against the stomach wall that they could be seen through the thin surface of the blanket in addition to his fur.
 
Martin sighed one last time and patted his stomach where the blonde with the hourglass figure and the fairy-themed costume was pleading with him, patting away the handprints made when she tried to force the constricting stomach walls away from her. Occasionally he apologized to her in a low voice, but then humbly explained that it couldn't be helped. "Sorry dear," he said as he belched one last time, "it is what it is and you're just going to have to accept the fact that you're going to be digested. Try not to think too much about becoming a steaming pile in a couple of hours." Of course that wasn't the most helpful suggestion as the cute blonde's "AHRHHHHHRRRMMFFFFFFF!" shriek demonstrated. "Well, Clar, I think I'm going to go ahead and drive home... carefully of course. I'm sure you, Warren, Philippe and the siblings can see to the rest of those unfortunate girls stuck down there in the basement. Covering this up is going to be a huge headache, especially since Mr. Katz won't be around to take the blame, but I guess there's nothing for it." His hapless stomach-prisoner continued mewling, kicking, struggling and squealing in helpless distress as he walked out through the door, massive stomach swaying from side to side.
 
With all the doomed, squirming sorority girls carried off in the satisfied stomachs that had claimed them, Bobby was left staring face to face with Clara. For the first few minutes he'd heard his girlfriend frantically calling to him through the thick door but she'd given up now, despairing since she couldn't hear Bobby say a thing. Clara licked her lips.
 
"So, surely you know what's going to happen now, right? You surely knew ever since I first told you to convince her to come here."
 
"I... you didn't say anything about this. All those poor girls... they didn't do anything to you or anyone. They were innocent, and you had them all-"
 
"Devoured alive, and soon to be thoroughly digested, yes." Clara said with a smirk. "But don't worry. I may not have been telling the truth when I said that if you did what I told, that nobody else at the party would have to experience being digested alive in a werewolf's stomach. But I wasn't lying about two things... One, that I was going to send you down my throat, whole and alive... And, two, that I'd fuck you until you were limp and exhausted before I did."
 
Bobby's body betrayed him. Since Clara first revealed her lupine form and told him her grudge against his girlfriend, the thought had made him more excited than he'd thought possible. Sliding down her tight slimy throat, stretching out her feminine curves from the inside... he'd gotten a boner when she'd been taunting him, and of course, she'd noticed immediately, much to her pleasant surprise.
 
"Don't you want to find out if the gun is going to work? Or is your other gun taking all the blood flow from your fingers and messing up your aim? Your hands look shaky. What if your girlfriend was right and all you have to do is shoot, before I can cross to that window over there and open the shutters to the moonlight?" Clara put her hands behind her back, elbows in the air, to thrust her chest out as prominently as possible.
 
Those listening with horror from inside the door (Marianne, Nancy, Monica, and a couple more people who'd been caught down there in a delicate position when the terrified young women stormed in) heard a series of sharp pops as the handgun that Bobby had taken emptying the magazine.
 
"Well," Nancy said, brushing a bead of sweat from her forehead when the noise finally stopped, "if it had worked there wouldn't have been more than two or three shots. I hope he saved one for himself." Marianne slapped her with such force tht the raven-haired beauty was knocked to the floor, moaning and cradling her bruised cheek, while Monica sat there and shivered and the two others who they'd not yet encountered at the party loudly demanded what the hell was going on from their position under a blanket.
 
Little did Marianne or Nancy know that the shots had been purely a show for their benefit. Each and every one had gone into the floor, nowhere near Clara's curvaceous body as she jiggled her way over to the window, undid the blinds, and turned around back towards Bobby so he could watch in awe as her true furry form ripped its way out of the green jester's outfit, breasts covered in fine white fur bouncing free, white-tipped tail swishing hungrily as Clara advanced on him. The human didn't even try to run - if he had, he felt like he might've broken his leg if he stepped too quickly, so hard was the erection straining the captivity of his too-tight briefs. All thoughts of guilt were washed away as quickly as thoughts of his own survival as the man thought about what this shameless, utterly amoral she-wolf was about to do to him...
 
---------------------------
 
While Tara in her fairy costume was left to slosh back and forth in the wolfish grim reaper's lap as he drove to the isolated patch of woods that would be her final destination, Jessica, Lucy, Vivian and Brooke found no rescue forthcoming as the stiflingly hot, slippery, organic cells they were being held in tightened around their curvaceous, squirming bodies and gradually filled up until they were almost completely immersed in acids.
 
Werewolves weren't the most popular movie monsters these days but the horror films starring them, such as they were, always portrayed them as shredding victims with their fangs. For those in the position of writhing helplessly against the soft and elastic yet monstrously deadly interior of a true werewolf that had swallowed them whole, helpless to do anything but writhe directionlessly while being gradually digested alive, to have gone down in pieces seemed a far preferable fate, especially since the talkative monsters made very sure that the doomed young women knew exactly what form they were going to be in when the hyperactive supernatural metabolism of those predators was through with them.
 
Philippe delighted in squeezing Jessica and Brooke together. "Ahhh, every guy's dream, to have some hot girl-girl action going on in the same bed with him. Literally hot, in this case." he gave Brooke's protruding rump a sharp smack with his palm. In spite of his efforts, being squeezed together as they were, breasts, elbows, shoulders and knees all frictionessly sliding against one another and heightening their panic, made Brooke and Jessica wear themselves out quickly, passing out sooner than any of the other unlucky college girls.
 
Warren, exhausted by his orgasm and having absorbed a gunshot, had dropped Lucy the sexy angel onto the floor roughly and forced her ample chest down underneath him, working her around in his clenching gut until he could curl up and use her wriggling backside as a pillow. She was a lively one, still kicking and struggling, but her fading, muffled screams were like a lullaby to him, and the young werewolf was sleeping peacefully even before Lucy's body gave out, her final squirms unintentionally rocking him to sleep as he used his sorority-girl-filled stomach like a beanbag bed.
 
Romy had taken a chair so that he could lean back, hands behind his head, and watch Vivian toss and turn around and around, ever more desperately seeking the sphincter that had opened to allow her in. The constant pressure of her hands pushing against the springy muscular interior of his stomach only to snap back and gurgle threateningly each time Vivian's arms tired out made for a very pleasant massage, and the feel of her fitfully working her way into a sitting position, with her plush backside resting on his lap while she arched her back was delightful. When he at last gave the 'final burp', seeing her cute face pressed against the top of his stretched stomach giving a muffled open-mouthed cry of despair, struggles growing more frantic and uncoordinated as her air ran out, made him loudly sigh in satisfaction and pat his woman-stuffed midsection with a palm.
 
All four girls endured the merciless grip of the furry stomachs that had claimed them without much dignity, surival instincts compelling them to keep fruitlessly squirming and pleading even as they were melted down by powerful acids over the next hour. Long after the last muffled feminine squeal had gone silent the room echoed with roaring gurgles and churns, as well as even more disgusting sounds as the process advanced. Since there were no knocks at the door it seemed, fortunately, that the gunshots had gone unnoticed and they were free to dispose of the mass quantities of waste their costumed human meals had produced at their leisure.
 
Philippe, a bit older than the others and by far the greediest, was still snoozing in the bed by the time that Warren and Romy once again stood up with bellies considerably shrunken and rounded out compared to how they'd been when they entered the room. This fancy bedroom had now borne witness to the digestion of no less than six absolutely gorgeous young co-eds, and with luck, there would be more squeezing down throats and exposed to the nonexistent mercy of werewolf stomachs before the night was done.
 
"Well, looks like it's time to say farewell to this sweet morsel." Romy said with a pat of his smaller, rounded stomach, lifting his tail to pass gas as he walked to the bathroom door. "She didn't use magic to escape so I guess she wasn't a witch after all, huh? Just a cute, curvy schoolgirl in a costume. Oh well."
 
For the second time that night the two younger male werewolves went their separate ways and plopped their (now noticeably plumper) furry rear ends onto the porcelain thrones. The wolves sighed, reminiscing about Vivian and Lucy's gorgeous curves while they went about their business of flushing pound after pound of the logs of steaming brown ruin that their bellies had made of the sexy partygoers. In his malicious glee, Warren went so far as to softly howl a mocking rendition of 'Amazing Grace' as Lucy's thoroughly digested remains were relinquished in a manner that was anything but angelic.
 
The pipes creaked and shook with the strain as more and more dense loads were sent down each time a clawed finger depressed the toilet levers. On and on it went until at last scraps of used toilet paper were dropped upon the last of the heaps of shit that purehearted Vivian and ditzy Lucy had made, almost like stark white flowers marking their departure with grim finality.
 
Although Lucy was a good girl and rushed down the pipes towards the sewer system to join Polly and Sandra before her in her new lumpy brown state, it seemed that Warren had taxed the toilet in the other upstairs bathroom beyond its limits and it obstinately refused to accept even an ounce more of former co-ed. It seemed that although Lucy's rump, which had poked so enticingly out from underneath the fringe of her too-short white skirt, hadn't been quite generous enough to prevent Warren from swallowing her down completely, it helped make for a heavy enough load that it would've been a true miracle if the house's plumbing could've accomodated so much shit.
 
Warren was still fumbling with it, trying to use a plunger and only succeeding in making the situation worse, while Romy happily walked down the steps to the main area of the house, carrying a plastic trash bag and thumping his gut. With a series of noisy hacking coughs, he spat up two very sexy Halloween costumes - one which Sandra had ordered with a single click online, and one which Vivian had spent a dozen hours laboriously piecing together and having custom-fitted to best display her bounteous curves... now both stained and acid-bleached beyond uselessness, and deposited thoughtlessly into the bag like any other trash.
 
"Hey Clara, you done down here yet?" he asked curiously, looking around to make sure that Chase was still keeping watch by the basement door. "I'm going to keep this bag open for now. I'm betting there are going to be at least a few more costumes left laying around after their former owners don't need them anymore, and we ought to keep them all gathered together in one place in case we need to leave this place in a hurry. Do you know how long we have 'til the sun comes up? HEY!" he yelped back over his shoulder, "You old dog, Philippe! Haven't you finished digesting those two cuties yet? You had better go ahead and unload them in the garden, we're burning moonlight here!"
 
Meanwhile, in the crowded confines of the basement, the so-far relatively lucky party guests had spent a tense two hours arguing, watching, listening and waiting... having to hear the constant procession of flushes and running water through the pipes that wended their way through the basement and knowing that half of their fellow party guests were slowly being sent down through that powerful plumbing to the sewer system. Unknown to Romy, they had already cast the die and were taking their chances, unknowing that one among their number fully intended to be the only human to make it out of this accursed Halloween party in one piece...